


tangled up in blue

by vtforpedro



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Flirting, M/M, Modern Royalty, Romance, So much flirting, Thorin is a Softie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-18
Updated: 2019-04-18
Packaged: 2020-01-16 03:10:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18512695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vtforpedro/pseuds/vtforpedro
Summary: In which Bilbo meets a king and begins a new adventure.





	tangled up in blue

Bilbo is not a fan of royalty.

One could even say he loathes them and their fancy clothes and cars and palaces, their demanding natures and endless feuds.

Why he had taken this job on, he can’t say. The idea of an adventure, perhaps, or because he was simply roped into it by an old family friend. Gandalf had come around one night when it was pouring rain and therefore setting the mood, more than a decade after Bilbo had last seen him and offered him a position working as his assistant. He was still a bit fuzzy on what Gandalf did exactly (resulting from the many glasses of wine and brandy they had consumed that night) but once he had offered the job, it had sounded interesting.

It had sounded bloody brilliant honestly.

Gandalf Grey worked for the royal family and he had kept the details vague even after Bilbo’s headache had worn off and he had found out that he had signed paperwork without quite knowing what he was getting into. Gandalf seemed to do many things, from writing speeches for and biographies on the family members to curating museums in their names to more dubious work with many half redacted pages Bilbo had to file.

Seeing the palace and parliament and meeting certain members of the family had all been very exciting when Bilbo had first started with Gandalf. The work, the lifestyle, the _food…_ the pay, even, though he wasn’t particularly bothered with that. The adventure. It had all been a dream come true for Bilbo, who had been stuck working in a library, something he had loved once upon a time but that had grown stale and unpleasant under new management.

Moving to the city and living the high life was much different than anything he had ever known. Much more enticing, if he was honest with himself.

And then the reality of working for the royal family, for Gandalf had sunk in. He still loved it, yes, but the drama was nearly too much to bear. These people were finicky, frail and far too frumpy.

They were also always late.

Bilbo rounds a corner with his arms full of his tablet, planner and _very important documents,_ according to Gandalf, while cursing these people who are making his life unnecessarily difficult.

The royal family is meeting another royal family, from Erebor or some mountainous country like it - Bilbo had been too annoyed to pay much attention - and they are both late.

Bilbo is not a fan of royalty.

He hurries down a much too fancy golden hall with tall, thin windows covered in rich red fabrics, and the marble floors polished to a sheen and tries to pretend it isn’t beautiful in its own pretentious way.

He makes a sharp turn into another hallway and promptly runs into something very tall and very solid. An undignified yelp and flailing of limbs follows and Bilbo lands uncomfortably hard on his rear end, the sound of his tablet hitting the floor filling his roiling stomach with dread.

“Sir!” a deep voice says, distinctly Ereborean. “I’m so sorry. Are you hurt?”

Bilbo groans, looking around at the mess of papers fallen out of their folders, his planner in disarray and his tablet lying face down around him. Not to mention noticing the sharp soreness in his tailbone.

“I’m fine,” he says through gritted teeth and begins to pick up the papers, despairing to think of how out of order they surely are now. “I was a bit in my own head, I suppose, sorry.”

“I suppose I was too,” the voice says and the man kneels next to Bilbo, picking up the tablet and examining it. “No cracks!”

Bilbo huffs a little, glancing at the man at his side and feels his stomach do a bit of a flip that has nothing to do with being late or falling on his arse. Dread fills his heart this time, as this man is certainly not what he expected.

Bloody tall, bloody well dressed in a fine black suit and bloody handsome. Black hair with a dusting of grey around his temples, a full, thick beard, a pointy nose and perhaps the most beautiful blue eyes Bilbo has ever seen.

Bilbo groans again and the man’s small smile turns into a much larger frown.

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

“We need to get moving,” someone says.

Bilbo quickly looks up and notices that he is not alone with this handsome stranger in the hall. Of course he hadn’t embarrassed himself in front of just one person, but five. There are four other men, all wearing black suits with black ties, wearing sunglasses indoors of all places and stern expressions.

The two standing behind the man kneeling next to him are very intimidating, not to mention humongous. One is bald with a neat brown beard, the other has an impressive head of fiery red hair with an equally impressive beard, though he is certainly more round in the middle than the other man.

“I don’t think the country will collapse without me,” the blue-eyed man says, smiling fleetingly at Bilbo as he hands over his tablet.

“Thank you,” Bilbo mumbles, turning back to gathering his documents. “Work for the royal family, do you?”

The man is quiet for a moment before he huffs a laugh. “In a way,” he says, picking up Bilbo’s planner and smoothing out the ruffled sheets.

“Well, I’ll have you know, I blame them for this,” Bilbo says, sitting back on his heels. “Always late! Always making my life difficult. I’d send the bill to the bloody king of Erebor himself had my tablet broken. My life’s work is in that tablet! I might as well crack myself had it been ruined.”

“I’m sure the king of Erebor would have been more than happy to reimburse you,” the man says, sounding amused. “If you had made that exact argument to him.”

“Hah!” Bilbo says, adjusting his glasses and looking at the man. “Are you lot his bodyguards?”

He looks at the others standing, all of them wearing varying levels of annoyance clearly on their faces and coughs a little. “I suppose you might be late as well.”

The bald one, most certainly a bodyguard, lifts his sleeve and mutters, _“The Madeleine_ will be there shortly,” to no doubt another bodyguard on the end of some other earpiece. He glares at both Bilbo and his fellow bodyguard.

The man rolls his eyes, smiling at Bilbo again and shrugs a shoulder. “…in a way,” he repeats. He stands, offering Bilbo a hand.

Bilbo takes it, ignoring how very warm it is and clears his throat as he stands, then straightens out his sweater vest. “Well,” he says. “I suppose we’d best get on to our respective royal families. Our respective pain in the arses that is. I hope that king of yours doesn’t make you want to pull your hair out as frequently as a certain queen makes me want to. I’ll be bald by the end of the year like your friend here.”

The man raises his eyebrows before he begins to laugh, glancing at the bald bodyguard, whose lips are pursed into a very thin line. “I don’t doubt his resulted from the stress of dealing with his king,” he says, his eyes crinkled in the corners, smiling at Bilbo.

A smile that could take the heart of lesser men.

Or just Bilbo’s.

“Will you be at one of the most obnoxious parties of the year after then?” Bilbo asks, trying to keep the faint bit of hope out of his voice.

“I’m afraid so. I’m expected,” the man says, eyes twinkling. He holds his hand out. “My name is Thorin.”

“Oh, hello. I’m Bilbo,” Bilbo says, shuffling around his burden and taking Thorin’s hand, shaking it. “Hmm, I swear I’ve heard that name today. Knocking other people down in hallways, are you?”

Thorin grins. “You happen to be the lucky one,” he says. “Bilbo… are you the Queen’s assistant?”

“Goodness no. I’d have thrown myself out of one of these windows ages ago,” Bilbo says, glaring around the hall. “I’m unlucky enough to be the assistant to Gandalf Grey.”

“Grey?” Thorin asks in surprise. “I had no idea he had an assistant now.”

“Oh, have you met him before? He could probably still get by without me but he promised me an adventure,” Bilbo says. “It certainly has been an interesting one.”

One of the other bodyguards clears their throat loudly.

Thorin waves them off. “Working with Grey can be nothing but,” he says, sliding his hands into his pockets. “I actually have a meeting with him scheduled tomorrow very, very early in the morning. My… king does, I mean. Perhaps you’ll be there?”

Bilbo raises his eyebrows in surprise. “I suppose I might!” he says. “Though perhaps I’ll see you at the party first. I imagine you’ll be tending to the king while I’m tending to many cocktails that I most certainly deserve.”

“I might manage to sneak a glass or two of champagne myself,” Thorin says, chuckling. The bodyguards seem to let out a collective sigh at this and Thorin smirks a bit. “Perhaps I can share one with you?”

Bilbo coughs a little, his cheeks warm. “Oh, well,” he says, looking at Thorin’s tie more than his absurdly blue eyes. “I suppose if you can find a moment for yourself, I’d quite like that.”

“The king will not be alone for one moment,” the red-haired bodyguard grits, glowering as much as the bald one.

“I’m certain the king won’t be,” Thorin says dryly. “Will you be with Grey during the speech?”

“The speech!” Bilbo cries, looking back and forth down the hallway. “Oh, yes, certainly, but I’m going to be later than the blasted royal family if I don’t go now! It was very nice to meet you, Thorin. I look forward to seeing you at the party!”

Thorin is smiling that smile again, the one that makes Bilbo pause, not quite wanting to leave the hall. “As do I,” he murmurs, his voice perfectly lovely and perfectly deep and perfectly apt to get Bilbo into far too much trouble.

_“The Madeleine is on the move. No need to deliver the danishes.”_

Bilbo has no idea what that means but Thorin is beginning to look especially exasperated with the bald bodyguard and he can’t help but grin. “Go before you get into trouble,” he says, beginning to back down the hallway. “They’ll send the croissants after me.”

Thorin laughs again, rich and true, and inclines his head. He gives one final smile before he is off, striding down the hallway, leaving Bilbo to swoon silently after him by himself.

“The speech!” he cries again, turning and running to his destination. Gandalf will be calling him soon if he doesn’t arrive… though, knowing royalty, he’ll be resting on his laurels for a while yet, when he could have had a few more minutes with Thorin.

Thorin seems rather like an adventure himself.

——

The speech is put in order again by Gandalf, who merely twinkles at Bilbo when he explains that a man named Thorin had run him down in the hall and indeed they must wait a while longer. But soon the cameras are rolling and Bilbo takes his place behind the press, waiting for the King of Erebor and the Queen of England to take their places at the front of the grand room.

There are golden podiums, one draped with the Ereborean flag, and Bilbo yawns as they are announced.

A tall, black-haired man steps up to the podium, looking into the cameras and smiling a familiar smile, thanking the Queen and England and everyone else but Bilbo is far too frozen to hear more than a few words of it.

He gapes at Thorin - that was the king’s name, wasn’t it? Thorin of the line of Durin, which has been repeated many times that day, now that Bilbo’s brain is catching up - and feels his heart shrivel up, drifting to lie somewhere in his stomach as he watches Thorin begin his speech. The king’s speech.

Lied to. Lied to by the King of Erebor, made a fool of in front of him and no doubt his personal bodyguards. And he had insulted royalty in front of him! Repeatedly! Bilbo could… well, he could certainly lob that glass of champagne at his perfectly pointy nose but then… well, then he would be arrested.

Or perhaps Thorin lied to protect his own safety when it was clear Bilbo had no sodding idea who he was. Or perhaps he truly did mean to make a fool out of him.

Bilbo wishes he could melt into the floor and disappear. In fact, that is exactly what he is going to do. He sidesteps a few people and heads into the adjacent room with all of the television monitors and no doubt important people working them. Gandalf himself is in there, when he should really be in the other room but he seems to be harassing one of the people working the monitors.

“You knew,” Bilbo says flatly when he steps up to Gandalf’s side.

“Hmm? Knew what, my dear boy?”

“Oh, don’t play coy with me. _You knew_ and you didn’t tell me!”

“Well of course I knew!” Gandalf says blithely. “I simply decided to let you find out on your own.”

“Kind of you,” Bilbo growls. “I might not feel like such a fool if you had simply told me. Given me a warning. A moment’s notice. Anything! And him! I’m sure they had a good laugh about it when they finished with me.”

Gandalf’s eyes soften. “I can assure you Thorin would not laugh at you,” he says. He raises his eyebrows in consideration. “I can also assure you that his bodyguards have no sense of humor. I imagine Thorin was simply relieved to not be fawned over.”

Bilbo thinks about that for a moment. Thorin did indeed seem relaxed for a king that was exceptionally late to his own speech. Perhaps he was dawdling on purpose and saw an opportunity to… mingle with the common folk for a moment. Or common Bilbo Baggins anyway.

“Maybe,” he admits begrudgingly. “But a warning before he entered the room would have been appreciated all the same.”

“And what fun would that have been?” Gandalf asks mildly, watching Thorin on the telly and murmuring instructions to the man in front of it.

Bilbo rolls his eyes. “He invited me to have champagne with him. I have a feeling he won’t be able to keep to that being the _bloody king_ and all.”

“Thorin keeps his word,” Gandalf says, glancing at Bilbo and smiling in amusement. “I should know, he vowed to have me fired and most certainly did.”

Bilbo chokes a bit on air. “Fired?!” he exclaims. “You’ve been fired?”

“Not here,” Gandalf says, patting Bilbo on the shoulder. “Only from my position in Erebor.”

“In Erebor,” Bilbo repeats faintly and sighs. “Of course you worked for the king in Erebor, why wouldn’t you have. How long have you known him exactly?”

“Oh, since he was very young and his father ruled. He comes from a long line of well respected men and women, kings and queens. His heirs are shaping up to be fine boys as well.”

Bilbo feels a fleeting sense of panic at the mention of Thorin’s heirs before he remembers his royalty lessons and that the young boys are Thorin’s nephews. He had never married or had children, Bilbo thinks, and feels a vast amount of relief at the thought. And Thorin had been flirting with him, hadn’t he? A plain, boring Baggins he was but a _king_ had been flirting with him. The weight of it is suddenly heavy on his shoulders and he wipes sweat off his brow.

“There’s nothing wrong with a spot of fun,” Gandalf says, watching Bilbo with a knowing glint in his eye.

“I’m certainly not looking to get married to a king,” Bilbo mumbles quietly enough for only Gandalf to hear. “He had best be looking to share a very large glass of champagne with me.”

“Do flutes come in large?”

“The whole bottle then!”

Gandalf chuckles merrily. “I do believe you are just what Thorin has been looking for.” He winks and turns, heading back into the main room.

Bilbo gapes after him, his cheeks warm and tries to not think too deeply on it. A spot of fun. That is all he’s looking for himself. Not one bit more, however handsome and charming it happens to be.

——

The speeches are all very nice and over with quickly and then there are interviews with the press. Bilbo stays out of the press room and away from Thorin, hoping that the day will go by slowly but luck has never been a part of the Baggins name. The party arrives when the sun sets and there are dozens of round tables lining a gorgeously decorated hall, with place cards bearing the names of royalty and politicians and the ultra rich adorning them. There are pink tulips and white lilies on every table in magnificent bouquets, and a large crystal chandelier hangs above it all.

A chamber orchestra is in the corner of the room, playing symphonies.

“A tad excessive, isn’t it?” Bilbo groans as he wanders into the hall with Gandalf.

“As if you aren’t used to it by now,” Gandalf says, chortling. “Ah! The Duchess of Sussex! Due any time, you know. Will you be alright, dear boy?”

“Oh, go mingle. I smell food,” Bilbo says, waving Gandalf off, and goes to find the table they are to be seated at.

When everyone has had time enough to greet each other and spread gossip, two massive doors at the back of the hall are opened and guests are invited in. The sight of many buffet tables laden with dishes of spiraled ham and pork tenderloin, sides of roasted and herbed vegetables, and large platters of dried meats and cheeses is enough to send Bilbo’s stomach grumbling and if he has to elbow his way past a duke of who knows where, well, that’s his business.

A glass of champagne is awaiting him at his table and he sits, exchanging a few pleasantries and complaints with the rest of Gandalf’s team before the mad man himself joins them. Bilbo forgets about the King of Erebor, if only for a few moments, deciding not to look around the room for him, and simply enjoys his drinks and multiple plates of food.

His coworkers attempt to get him out of his seat after desserts have been served and eaten, to go and speak with other guests but he firmly denies them. He is due for another glass of champagne and has emails to catch up on. When he has his nose stuck in his phone, most people tend to think he’s an important figure at these events and leave him alone.

“You’re here,” a familiar, deep voice says.

Most people.

Bilbo looks quickly up from his phone, gaping at Thorin himself, who is watching him with, Bilbo notices, quite a lot of apprehension while holding two glasses of champagne. He glances around and sees that his bodyguards are near but not near enough to be intruding.

Once his shock at Thorin’s sudden appearance wears off, he clears his throat and stands. He bows exaggeratedly. “Your Majesty,” he says, raising a pointed eyebrow.

Thorin winces a little. “I suppose I deserve that. Bilbo…” he trails off and hands Bilbo a glass. “I hope you can forgive me. It seemed better to not… tell you in the moment.”

“I’d like to know why first,” Bilbo says, taking the glass and sipping on it. “Felt like a bit of an arse when I found out, you know.”

“I’m sorry,” Thorin says sincerely, stepping closer. “That’s not what I wanted. It just…” he trails off again, furrowing his thick brow. “It felt good to not be recognized. That only happens in America.”

“Or with certain foolish people in England,” Bilbo says dryly. Thorin looks even more putout and he chuckles. “Gandalf said something similar, I suppose he was right. But I can’t forgive you quite yet.”

Thorin visibly relaxes, smiling at Bilbo’s light tone. “What can I do?”

“Get me a blasted gin fizz, will you? No more of this,” he says, handing the champagne glass back to Thorin.

Thorin grins. “I can do that,” he says, glancing toward one of his bodyguards.

“Oh no,” Bilbo says, shaking his finger. “It has to be you.”

“Whatever you’d like,” Thorin says quietly, smiling a bit more fondly than Bilbo’s poor heart can take. “But follow Gloin.”

“Who now?” Bilbo asks, his heart thumping painfully in his chest, fiddling with his glasses.

Thorin gestures quickly and the red-haired bodyguard from before materializes at his side, not looking very pleased. “This way, Mister Baggins,” he says gruffly, holding his arm out.

“Oh,” Bilbo says in surprise, looking at Thorin, who only winks at him before he is striding off again. Bilbo swallows dryly, looking at Gloin. “And where are we going?”

“Not far,” Gloin says and is off as quickly as Thorin, leading Bilbo through the tables and to a massive staircase near the doors of the room. It is covered in red carpet, soft under his feet and the stairs curve upwards in a lovely arch. The walls are lined with tapestries and beautiful works of art but Bilbo doesn’t particularly notice.

As he wonders if he is being led to his death for some slight against the king, Gloin comes to a stop at the top of the stairs and gestures to the golden bannister overlooking the room below.

“He’ll be with you shortly,” Gloin says and disappears into the shadows alongside the wall across from Bilbo.

Bilbo is frightfully nervous now. A king wants him alone, alone and with cocktails. A dangerous combination. Perhaps Thorin wishes to enjoy some privacy with Bilbo or perhaps he simply cannot be seen with Bilbo for too long down below. He supposes that makes sense, to protect Thorin’s image. Bilbo is only a lowly assistant after all.

Waiting for Thorin doesn’t take long, not nearly long enough to let Bilbo gather his wits, and soon he is ascending the stairs, two colorful cocktails in his hands, his bodyguards following closely behind him. They go to join the shadows with Gloin, though the bald one doesn’t look happy about it and glares at Bilbo as he goes.

When Thorin hands him the cocktail, Bilbo is only glad his trembling hand isn’t entirely noticeable in the lower light.

“Ignore Dwalin and Gloin,” Thorin says. “They take the intimidation part of their jobs very literally.”

Bilbo chuckles nervously. “Who can blame them, they have a king to look after,” he says, taking a drink of his raspberry and lemon gin fizz. Made perfectly, naturally.

“A king that doesn’t often lead them into trouble,” Thorin says, a bit loudly. “And who deserves a break now and then, if I may say so.” He takes a sip of his drink and frowns down at it. “That’s… interesting.”

Bilbo laughs more genuinely. “And what sort of cocktails do they have in Erebor?”

“Is beer a cocktail?” Thorin asks. “Whiskey?”

“Remind me not to drink whiskey if I’m ever in Erebor. We don’t mix well,” Bilbo says. It’s shockingly easy to speak with Thorin, he finds, and that is somewhat frightening in itself. “Beer isn’t terrible.”

“I’ll have the kitchens brush up on English cocktails if you have an occasion to be in the palace,” Thorin says easily, too easily. “Though Mister Grey is temporarily banned from the country so it may not be a business trip.”

Bilbo bursts into laughter. “Please tell me you’re joking. Did he start a national incident?”

Thorin smiles wanly. “Nearly,” he says. “You’ll have to come for pleasure.”

And what can Bilbo even say to that? Nothing witty, as he will surely bury himself deeper in… whatever this is. “Maybe I will,” he says, looking down at his drink. “How long are you in London?”

“Until Tuesday,” Thorin says, sighing lightly. “Not long unfortunately. I’ll be taking my nephews sightseeing tomorrow.”

“Oh, are they here tonight?” Bilbo asks and scoffs a bit when Thorin nods.  “Aren’t they a bit young for schmoozing like this?”

“Fili will be king someday,” Thorin says, sounding amused. “He’s been… schmoozing for a while now. Kili, his brother, enjoys it. Maybe because he’s seven.”

Bilbo chuckles. “Won’t they wonder where you are?”

“Their own bodyguards keep them distracted while _I’m_ away schmoozing,” Thorin says with a grin. “Would you like to meet them before the end of the night?”

“Oh!” Bilbo says, blinking a little. Meeting the heirs of a king. Thorin’s nephews. It seems perfectly fitting with where his night is going so far but still utterly terrifying. “I… yes. Yes, that would be lovely. I’m sure they’re darling boys.”

“When they aren’t giving their mother and I grey hairs,” Thorin says. “Before our time, might I add.”

“How old are you? 58, 59?”

“I can take that cocktail away as quickly as I gave it to you.”

Bilbo laughs. “It makes you look very… distinguished,” he says, not bothering to hide his ogling of Thorin’s grey hairs. They’re even in his beard, catching the chandelier’s light, turning them silver. Thorin, he is realizing, is breathtakingly beautiful… and far too much for Bilbo. Far too grand. But what does he have to lose?

“And handsome.”

If Bilbo isn’t mistaken, Thorin’s cheeks look rather pink and his eyes dart downwards, even as he smiles.

“Breakfast,” he says, nearly too quietly for Bilbo to hear.

“Sorry?” he asks, laughing. “What’s this about breakfast?”

“If you’re not too busy…”

Bilbo gapes at him, his mouth hanging open. _Oh._ He stares at Thorin, not quite sure what to say, until Thorin begins to look worried and Bilbo wants none of that.

“I’m sorry, I’ve overstepped—”

“No!” Bilbo says, too loudly and clears his throat when the bodyguards shift their feet. “I mean… no, no you haven’t overstepped. I’m simply… well. That’s it, isn’t it? I’m simple. I’m merely an assistant, I’m not… not one of them.” He gestures toward the main floor.

“You’re not simple at all,” Thorin says and sounds so much like a stern king that Bilbo straightens out his spine. “And you’re not _merely_ anything. I want you to have breakfast with me. Just me.”

Bilbo blushes, ducking his head and staring at his shoes. “Well, I… I mean, I’d… like that. Just… you and I, that is. Though I do believe I’ll have to call off work for the morning.” He smiles as he looks at Thorin.

Thorin looks relieved, letting out a heavy sigh and smiles back. “Will Grey not appreciate the short notice? I can talk to him.”

“God no,” Bilbo says quickly. “Never, ever talk to Gandalf about this or I’ll never hear the end of it! It sounds like you know him as well as I do!”

“You’re right. Stupid suggestion,” Thorin says, chuckling. “He seemed smug when I spoke with him earlier.”

“I’m sure he was,” Bilbo says flatly, wondering if Gandalf somehow planned this all along. “He won’t mind me taking the morning off.”

“Good,” Thorin sighs, taking a large drink of his gin fizz. “I’ll have my assistant get in touch with you in the morning.”

Bilbo is slightly disappointed it won’t be Thorin himself before he realizes how foolish that is. “And where will we be going?”

“Hmm…” Thorin hums, shrugging. “You’ll see.”

Bilbo laughs, shaking his head. “Alright then, keep your secrets,” he says. “You have to go back, don’t you?”

Thorin nods, not looking particularly happy about it. “I have to finish the night. I’ll find you very soon. Thank you, Bilbo.”

“Whatever for?”

“Making one of these nights the way I wished it could always be.”

Bilbo feels his heart get lodged in his throat and flexes his suddenly sweaty hand along his glass, swallowing and nodding faintly. “Of… course. Me too. Erm, I mean, thank you as well. Yes… thank you very much, erm… Thorin.”

Thorin is smiling fondly again, too much so, and he inclines his head. “Don’t leave early,” he says, lifting his hand and touching Bilbo’s shoulder. “I’ll see you.”

“Yes, see you,” Bilbo says, blinking at Thorin, who is far too handsome and smiling too widely and looking as smitten as Bilbo feels. He watches as Thorin gestures to his bodyguards and gives Bilbo one final glance before he is off down the stairs, one of the bodyguards mumbling about cannoli.

He sways once Thorin is out of sight, reaching up to touch his shoulder, staring blankly ahead. He downs the rest of his cocktail and, deciding he's due for another one, rejoins the party.

It’s much more boring without Thorin around or even Gandalf, who he actively avoids. Bilbo drinks a Pina Colada and finds a few people he knows to keep himself distracted. He has a feeling if he tried to respond to more emails he’d come off far more cheerful than normal in his replies. And if he looks around for Thorin often, managing a glimpse of him now and then, as his tall frame is easily spotted, well, that’s no one’s business. He simply dodges Gandalf and enjoys the rest of his night with his heart soaring and a grin never quite leaving him.

The party winds down after a while. Most of the royal family is long gone, leaving politicians and other royal guests to drunkenly finish the evening. Bilbo decides to leave the cocktails behind and drinks a cup of coffee at his table, staring at the tulips and wondering what sort of adventure he’s in for next.

Even if Thorin is late.

“Are you Mister Bilbo?” a young voices asks suddenly at his side, a few inches away from his ear.

Bilbo startles rather nastily and looks at the brown-haired boy who simply giggles at his surprise. “Oh, well, yes! Yes, I am. Who might you be?”

He can’t be more than six or seven. The boy is wearing a disheveled black suit with a crooked bow tie which likely didn’t start out that way and his hair is in disarray. His eyes are brown and bright and despite the late hour he doesn’t seem very tired at all. He beams at Bilbo and sticks his hand out formally.

“I am Kili, first of his name!”

“Kili!” Bilbo says breathlessly, shaking his hand and quickly glancing around for Thorin, though he is nowhere in sight. Only a bodyguard standing a few feet away, who narrows his eyes suspiciously at Bilbo. “Goodness, hello, Your… Your Highness. It is Your Highness, isn’t it?” he asks weakly.

Kili giggles more, nodding. “Yes! Uncle Thorin says he’s coming soon and that he’s, umm… sorry! Sorry for keeping you!”

“Sorry for keeping you _waiting,”_ another voice says, older, but certainly still youthful.

A blond boy, perhaps twelve, appears at Kili’s side with his own bodyguard. His hair in just as much disarray as little Kili’s and his blue eyes are just as bright. He smiles politely at Bilbo. “I’m Fili. Uncle said if we found you first we get hot chocolate.”

Bilbo blinks a little before laughing. “Did he now?” he says. “Well then, won’t you join me?” He pats the seat next to him, which Kili immediately clambers on to.

Fili sits at his brother’s side, watching Bilbo with ill-disguised curiosity. “Uncle is taking us sightseeing tomorrow but he says he has a meeting with you in the morning,” he says, and if Bilbo isn’t mistaken, there’s some sort of suspicion in his voice.

Bilbo coughs. “Yes, that’s right,” he says, sipping his coffee. “We’ll try to finish quickly so you'll have plenty of time for exploring London.”

“You can take your time,” Fili says, picking at the white table cloth, glancing at his brother and flashing a quick grin that is a little too knowing.

Kili giggles, though Bilbo is sure he doesn’t know why, and looks at Bilbo. “Take your time!” he parrots. “And then come with us!”

“Oh goodness,” Bilbo says, pulling at his collar as Fili laughs. “Well, I’m certain it’s supposed to only be you two and your uncle sightseeing. I… I have to go to work. Yes, work! They’ll be expecting me.”

Kili seems to think on this for a moment, narrowing his eyes as he reaches out to brush his fingers along a tulip. “But we can tell them we’re expecting you too!”

Bilbo can do nothing but gape at the boy, who does not know him whatsoever and yet wishes for him to join them, and looks between Kili and Fili. Fili is simply smiling vaguely and watching Bilbo with his eyebrows raised.

“You boys are far too grown up, aren’t you?” Bilbo asks faintly. “We’ll see how brea— our meeting goes, won’t we? Now where is your uncle?” He cranes his neck to look around and hopes Thorin is coming to save him from his nephews.

“There,” Fili says, pointing across the room. “Trying to get away from Dwalin.”

Bilbo looks and spots Thorin finally with a sigh of relief. Thorin is speaking with his bodyguards, clearly having a somewhat intense conversation and Bilbo is not surprised to see that Dwalin, the large bald one, is unhappy about it. He clears his throat, hoping it is not about himself, but Thorin and Dwalin glance over together and his hope is quashed.

Thorin brightens, however, when he sees Bilbo with his nephews and turns away from Dwalin, despite the fact that Dwalin is still speaking, and begins to walk toward them. Dwalin rolls his eyes and follows behind him, glaring at Bilbo as they approach.

“You found him,” Thorin says when he is near, coming to stand behind his nephews to smile at them before turning equally bright as theirs eyes on Bilbo.

They look very much alike, Bilbo thinks, looking between the family. Kili has Thorin’s nose and Fili has his blue eyes. They also seem to be as charming as their uncle, which only spells trouble for Bilbo.

“I hear there is hot chocolate promised for doing so,” Bilbo says, unable to help but smile. “Your nephews are very _observant.”_

Thorin raises his eyebrows, glancing at Fili in particular, who simply shrugs with a mischievous smile dancing around his lips before turning away from his uncle.

“…yes, I suppose they are,” Thorin mutters, a handsome blush staining his nose. “Maybe an extra dessert with hot chocolate will keep them well-behaved.”

Kili cheers loudly and Fili grins. “Maybe,” he says, to which Thorin arches an eyebrow. “Okay, okay! Kili, let’s go get more dessert before they clean up.”

“Ask for hot chocolate to go. If they don’t have it, we’ll get it from room service,” Thorin says and sighs as he watches his nephews leap from their chairs, smiling when they begin to run away.

“Bye, Mister Bilbo!” Kili yells as he takes his brother’s hand and runs off alongside him with their bodyguards following swiftly after.

Bilbo watches them go with a smile and glances at Thorin as he takes up Kili’s seat. “They’re good boys. Asked me to join you sightseeing.”

Thorin’s eyes are wide as he looks at Bilbo, his hand hovering above his tie, which is just as crooked as Kili’s bow tie was. “I’m so sorry,” he says, blushing nicely again. “They liked the sound of you.”

“Talking about me, are you?”

“How can I not?” Thorin murmurs, his lips quirking as he looks down at the table. “To be fair, I only told them you were looking forward to meeting them.”

Dwalin makes some sort of odd noise at this and Thorin says quickly, “And that you were a very nice man who tried to take me down in a hallway.”

Bilbo laughs a bit, shaking his head. “Lying to and bribing children,” he admonishes, leaning back in his chair. “You make for an interesting monarch, you know. I’m afraid I’ll have to let your nephews down tomorrow. Breakfast might be all my nerves can handle after tonight.”

“Fair enough,” Thorin says quietly. “Maybe one day we can take you sightseeing around Erebor.”

“I would like that very much,” Bilbo says honestly, the alcohol in his veins and his full heart making it easy to be so.

Thorin might be a monarch and his nephews might be princes but he is interested in Bilbo, something Bilbo never thought could be possible. It feels as if it is the beginning of his own fairytale, another unexpected adventure and he wonders what his mother would say. Thorin lives very far away and is a king, far too unreachable, but he is giving Bilbo hope with every smile and kind word. It’ll likely end up a fantasy, something that could never be and it’ll _hurt_ but Bilbo is going to go to breakfast and enjoy himself because his mother would say _you only live once, you know,_ and she was always right about everything.

He smiles at Thorin, thinking _you’re the adventure I’ve always wanted and you’ll likely never know it but I’m going to take any time you give to me because you’re wonderful, far more wonderful than I ever could have expected._

Oh yes, it will hurt.

But it’ll be worth it.

They exchange a few more words before Fili and Kili join them again, stuffing their faces with chocolate and raspberry treats and holding foam cups of hot chocolate in their hands. It isn’t long before Kili starts to fidget restlessly and his eyes grow heavy and Thorin and Bilbo must say goodbye. They shake hands and the touch lingers and Thorin gazes at him with soft eyes that speak volumes to Bilbo.

He watches the family go, surrounded by bodyguards and slumps into his seat, thinking about the morning. He doubts he will sleep tonight but… it’ll be worth it.

——

Morning comes slowly and without much rest and Bilbo lies in his bed, staring up at the ceiling. It is impossible to get Thorin out of his mind it seems and he doubts that will be changing anytime soon. He has burrowed his way into Bilbo’s mind, into his heart, and Bilbo thinks it might be years before he will be at peace again.

His phone rings and his heart begins to race, as he knows it's Thorin's assistant calling, though he does not recall ever giving his number. He doubts that’d get in Thorin’s way. He swallows dryly, answering with a croaky, “Hello?”

“Are you alright?”

Bilbo quickly sits straight up in bed, eyes wide. “…Thorin?”

“Yes,” Thorin says, sounding suspiciously amused.

“You said it would be your assistant.”

“Hmm… must have misspoken.”

Bilbo laughs, covering his eyes with his hand. “Where should I meet you at then, hmm?”

“I’m sending a car. It’ll be there in forty,” Thorin says, a smile in his voice.

“I don’t want to know how you know where I live. Will _you_ be in the car?”

“Maybe.”

“You’ve been entirely too evasive since I met you.”

“I suppose I’ll just have to be more honest with you,” Thorin says and there is clear meaning in his words.

Bilbo closes his eyes, smiling to himself. “Starting now, maybe.”

And _oh,_ it’ll hurt. It will break his heart eventually, maybe both of their hearts, this adventure.

But it’ll be worth it.

**Author's Note:**

> Omg I wrote something! And another modern royalty at that. Yesterday I sat for four or five hours and cranked this out! I went through a crisis about it but I feel much more happy with it now!
> 
> Thank you to the ever wonderful [Erin](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/angelsallfire), [Salsedine](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/salsedine) and [lindirs-gaze](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/lindirs-gaze)!!
> 
> And, as always, thank you to the absolutely incredible [telltalelily](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/telltalelily) for being so supportive and so very helpful with everything from the idea to the fic to the title and summary. c: Thank you my dear!
> 
> [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/vtforpedro)
> 
> p.s. I'm very much American so a suspension of disbelief might be in order for a few things. c:


End file.
